


Distaste

by Pandora_Imperatrix



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Let's pretend Sakura would ever hate Sasuke even for a moment, Pre-Sarada's birth, angsty, au-ish, post marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora_Imperatrix/pseuds/Pandora_Imperatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura finds out that she doesn't like her husband as much she used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distaste

_“You are one of God’s mistakes_  
You crying, tragic waste of skin  
I’m well aware of how it aches  
And you still won’t let me in”

_Placebo – Song To Say Googye_

It’s in the seventh month of marriage that Sakura finally realizes that she doesn’t like Sasuke. That she may even hate him.

She dislikes how he always get up too early in the morning waking her before her time, and always gets home too late when she’s almost falling asleep, as such she can’t remember when was the last time she had a decent night of sleep.

She dislikes deeply of how he made them move to that old house. Dooming her to an existence of endless cleaning, and dark corridors leading to haunted rooms. And, despite all this, the only ghost that haunts her is him, him that can bear the memories, but refuses to leave and answers so rudely when she proposes such things, choosing to lost himself in a liquid heaven of sake instead of freedom.

She can’t stand of how he keeps suffering, after all those years, alone, silently, cooking his hate in low heat but warm enough to burn her every time she tries to get close.

As a physician, she believes that every life is a miracle shrouded in the perfect machine of the human body, as a shinobi she makes sure to take the best from her machine, feeding her intellect as much as her physique, seeking perfection even in the small details. When she was younger, Sakura believed that Sasuke was just like her, coming from that her admiration for him and disdain for indolent types like Naruto. But now, seeing her husband wander around the house, smell the odour of alcohol on the duvet, his past full of failures and future that seems to lead to nowhere, maybe Sasuke wasn’t the most close of the paradise that she would ever be. These days he seemed more like a godly mistake, an enormous waste of cells and space.

And still she couldn’t let go of the stupid insistence of holding the moments of doubt that gave her hope, warm kisses, lingering stares and the ridiculous touch on her forehead.

Moments that gave her hope but no opening, for he never lets her in. He knows that she cares, that his bitterness sours all the dreams she had for them and yet he does not let her in. And it feels like the longing will never end, nor the distance he puts between them, for she always knows where he is, but can never reach him. It’s like he’s always behind of one of those locked doors of that house.

And it’s in times like these that she asks herself if isn’t mad already, if she wasn’t from the very beginning loving such a man enough to hate him with every fibre of her body.

And, other times, the question seems to be of when did this happened, she was sure she didn’t hate him when he and Naruto last fought, she was sure that she had forgiven him hem he apologised – yet the thing that most surprised and chocked her, even more than marriage proposals – and there are moments it seems like the hatred was always there. In every humiliation, in every hard word, and glares of disdain, even in their childhood, especially in childhood when the feeling of betrayal burned in her belly after the result of the use he made of the secrets he made her keep. Sasuke was always blessed for having the sacrifice of the people who love him, after all.

But now, their innocence is lost, the quota of sacrifices done, and what remained was that joke the called marriage.

What the little twelve-years-old Sakura-chan would think of her now? What would she think of him?

Sakura closes her eyes tight when she feels the heavy pressure of his body lying beside her in the bed, the scent of alcohol filling the air. She doesn’t cry anymore, of the tears only the acid anger burning in her stomach remained. She reads the hours at the clock on the nightstand, it’s three in the morning again. Reluctantly, she turns to his side, glaring at the swollen face she would love to finish with her potent fists.

“Stop glaring at me that way.”

“Am I bothering you?” replies cynically.

His lips tightening in a pale line and he seems fight internally.

“I had no intention of waking you” he apologises, his tone so dry and yet she believes, she always does.

“Sasuke-kun…”

“Go back to sleep, Sakura.”

But how could she? How could she when her stomach about to ulcer and his presence makes her sick?

“I’m pregnant.”

His entire body stiffens, she turns to the other side, giving him the only thing she can give that he truly values: privacy. Let him deal with his feelings as he wishes, Sakura can’t say she doesn’t care, it will take a while until that, maybe even an eternity, or even she will never succeed, and she will never stop caring after all, she will have to live forever caring about Sasuke Uchiha’s not shared feelings alone, but she was never very good at this loving herself thing anyway.

She decidedly can’t stand him, but her heart still seems to overflow when he finally holds her from behind, his breath sweet of sake moving the rosy hairs on her neck when he sighs.

“Thank you.”


End file.
